Needles
by LoquaciousGirl
Summary: He couldn’t help the depression, it was like a black hole in his chest that squeezed him so he that he was gasping and begging for breath, but he could always count on Remus to give him oxygen again.


Painfully, Sirius woke up.

His mind was whirling as he wiped his forehead, wiped away the sweat as he did most nights of the week. He violently kicked away the sheets that tangled around his body and suffocated him like Devils Snare. He could not even remember the dream. It trapped him as he slept, then shattered into pieces and slipped and sliced him in places he couldn't define, leaving him bleeding and unable to remember why. Sirius pulled his shaking knees up to his chest; oh how he hated feeling so helpless and scared, like a little boy in the midst of thunderstorm. His stomach felt sick, and he clutched his pillow to his chest for some comfort. It didn't work, but he knew what would. He pushed aside the bed hangings to see the alarm clock that rested on top of his dresser. '3:26' flashed at him in bright red and he blinked.

Sirius had always been petrified after nightmares, heart beating too fast and legs too unwilling to move, afraid of the terrors that might lurk beyond the safety of his scarlet and gold bed. Tonight, he gathered up all his Gryffindor courage and shifted his body to slowly make his way to the bed neighboring his own. Sirius knew that Remus slept there, eyes shut tight and fists curled around the blanket like they always were, his own dreams dancing around in his mind. Sirius wondered what they were, and if they were about him. He hoped so.

When he was close enough to Remus' bed to push the hangings aside, Sirius saw that the boy was sleeping just like he had imagined him, eyelashes just barely brushing his high cheekbones, fingers curled around the dark red blanket, mouth slightly ajar. Sirius slipped under the covers with Remus' sleeping form as quietly as he could, but he knew the rustling of the blankets and sheets would disturb Remus, who was cursed with light sleeping.

Sure enough, Remus' amber eyes slowly fluttered open, amber with hints of blue by the pupil; Sirius knew them so well. He noticed the lost and frightened look in Sirius' own eyes and lifted himself up with his elbow.

"Nigh'mares 'gain?" he asked incoherently, absently fingering a string sticking out of the stained white pillow. Remus slurred like he was thoroughly inebriated after he woke up, more than he did when he was actually drunk.

Sirius nodded; he had been coming to Remus with his nightmares since first year. They happened at least three times a week and Sirius still woke up frightened and sick with pain. He hated how weak he was, how disgustingly fragile, how easily broken he was by the simplest things. He couldn't help the depression, it was like a black hole in his chest that squeezed him so he that he was gasping and begging for breath, but he could always count on Remus to give him oxygen again.

He heard Remus sigh.

"Coulda woke me up 'stead of just barging in the bed, y'know," he grumbled, turning over and letting his lids fall shut over his beautiful eyes. Sirius clutched his shirt in between his fingers and bit his lip, wanting to reach out and pet Remus' hair, but Remus only tolerated that sometimes, and he seemed to be in an irritable mood tonight. "Go t' sleep Pa'foot, got classes in the morning and m'tired."

"Okay," he whispered resignedly and sadly, dark shadows still lurking in his mind. He turned the other way and tucked his arms under his head, keeping his bright eyes open in the dark of the night. "Good night."

For a while all Sirius could hear was the sound of James' snores wafting through the dorm and the crickets outside, the ceiling fan spinning and spinning and spinning like his mind. But most of all he could hear the voices in his head. _Weak, weak, weak, _they said, _pathetic, disgusting, weak, weak, and weak. You want Remus' comfort don't you? You can't stand that he's not hugging and kissing you right now. _Sirius wished it would shut up and let him sleep, he wished it would stop telling him the truth.

For a few minutes Sirius just stared the hangings that surrounded he and Remus while the voices destroyed his self esteem, like they always did at night, telling him exactly what he knew he was. His own heavy breathing resounded in ears, and he blinked back the tears, but then he unexpectedly felt a hand on his forehead, brushing black hair away from his eyes and tucking it behind his ear.

"I'm sorry," Remus breathed hotly in his ear, "Sorry I was so cranky. Do you want to talk about the dream?"

Sirius shook his head violently, turning around and burying his face in Remus neck. His legs were shaking. He felt Remus long fingers in his hair, stroking and soothing, and he felt the bursting bubbles in his chest that told him he was about to cry.

"It just felt like needles, Moony," he whispered softly and tiredly, "It just felt like needles everywhere."

Remus' hands were rubbing his back and the voices were all gone, and Sirius thought, maybe it was okay to need this. Maybe it wasn't so pathetic just to want comfort after a nightmare. Tomorrow it would be all over, tomorrow they would go to Transfiguration and Remus would take notes for the four of them and get the little crease between his eyebrows that he did when he concentrated. And Sirius would stare and eat toast and everything would be the same. Sirius painted pictures with his fingers while using Remus' hipbone as his canvas, and he told himself this.

"I was having a good dream when you woke me up," Remus spoke lowly enough so that Sirius had to strain to hear him, but he didn't whisper, "It was about you. You and I were under our tree, and we were just talking but I don't remember what we were saying. And then you smiled like I haven't seen you smile in a long time, all lopsided and radiant and beautiful."

Sirius let a lone tear fall onto Remus' neck, and Remus hitched him higher so that he could see Sirius' face.

"You know I just want to see you happy, right, Padfoot?" Remus asked him, face close enough that Sirius could see the almost-not-there freckles that were dusted lightly across Remus' nose. He counted them, one-two-three-four-five.

"I know," he whispered. Remus pressed his lips to Sirius' cheek, hard, and kept them there for a few seconds more than cheek kisses usually last. When he pulled away, he stroked Sirius' hair and whispered the 'I love you' in his ear that Sirius needed to hear. Sirius' stomach felt wobbly, and his lips curved into a smile.

"Love you," he echoed.

It would be all right now 'till the next night. Sirius knew there would be a next night, but for now he kept his head resting on Remus' chest and let his eyes fall shut to the sound of Remus' heart beating.

And he breathed.


End file.
